-Hi all. This is my first fanfic that I've actually written down (I have a bunch in my head but when I see stories in my head I see them in full movie form so it's different to write it down), I hope you like it. Please be kind as I'm new at this , but I appreciate reviews and advice about the story. I apologize in advance for any grammatical errors. I have no beta, so it's all on me.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Sherlock characters, wish I did, and mean no copyright infringement of any kind. Thank you!
There is some mild swearing, not much though, some boy on boy kissing but it doesn't go much farther than that in this story, and some description of injuries, minor blood. Overall it's not anything to worry about rating wise but it's T to be safe.
This story continues from "The Great Game" at the part where Watson, Sherlock and Moriarty are at the pool. There is some boy on boy romance, if you don't like don't read. Enjoy, and please review.
"Damn it John Breathe!" Sherlock shouted.
Sherlock's hands furiously compressed John's chest in the practiced CPR move. His lips touched Johns and he puffed his breath into John's airway five times. Then Sherlock felt John's neck for a pulse but he still could not find one.
"John, you wanker, BREATHE! You are not leaving me."
Then Sherlock said a word he hardly ever said, and when he did he never meant it. This time, though, he truly and desperately meant it.
"…Please." Came the word in a broken, pleading whisper.
-20 minutes earlier-
This was just supposed to be a meet up with Moriarty. So why was John here, and why was he strapped to a bomb? And why did Sherlock's chest suddenly feel so tight, his heartbeat had quickened as if he'd run a marathon. For the first time in his life he couldn't think, he couldn't form a thought other than 'not john, anyone but John, please not MY John'.
Sherlock had John's gun trained on Moriarty. The sniper's laser site was still roaming around John's body: his heart, his neck, his head, and the many explosives strapped to his chest. Moriarty stepped closer to get the missile plans from him then proceeded to throw them in the pool. Ah, so it was all about the game after all, the missile plans didn't really matter. Then all of a sudden John grabbed Moriarty from behind, holding him in a headlock, and shouted at Sherlock to run. But how could he, when John was still in danger. He could never leave him behind.
"You've rather shown your hand there Doctor Watson." Moriarty said in a delighted, yet slightly out of breath voice.
By John's expression Sherlock could tell there were now laser sites on his own body as well. John let go of Moriarty as though he were a hot stove and retreated. His eyes showed more fear than when the first sniper had aimed at him. 'Always more worried about my life than his own. Idiot!' Sherlock thought but attempted to keep his expression blank.
"Do you know what happens now if I let you go Sherlock? Kill you? No, don't be obvious." Moriarty said in his lilting singsong voice echoing faintly in the tiled room, "I mean I'm going to kill you anyways… someday. I don't want to rush it though. I'm saving it up for something special. No, no, no, no. If you don't stop prying…" the consulting criminal paused.
"I will burn you. I will burn the heart right out of you!" Moriarty spat through his teeth.
His heartbeat quickened because he knew Moriarty didn't mean his physical heart. Moriarty had somehow figured out in a matter of days what took Sherlock's 'vast intellect' almost half a year to solve: he loved John Watson. That he was Sherlock's heart and Moriarty was intent on burning John, and any other emotion Sherlock had ever had, straight out of him. He'd never truly been a sociopath. He'd always had feelings but learned at an early age never to show them. Which was why it had taken him so long to recognize he was in love with John; practice can make too perfect.
"I've been reliably told I don't have one." Sherlock said after a beat of silence where only the lapping of the chlorinated water was heard.
"But we both know that's not true." Moriarty grinned with twisted glee. Then he abruptly changed directions "Well I'd better be off."
They bantered back and forth as arch-nemeses do until Moriarty finally left, his expensive shoes clicking on the tiled floor. Sherlock kept the gun trained on him until the bastard was through the locker room door, and kept it aimed at the door for a few moments longer, just in case. Finally he could look at John and make sure he wasn't injured. He was sure John could see the primal fear emanating from his eyes and Sherlock dropped the gun and tore the explosives vest off his body; his hands and fingers shook badly. Sherlock's hand lingered over John's heart for a second almost to reassure himself he was still breathing…still here.
"Alright?...ARE YOU ALRIGHT?" He repeated when John didn't reply.
John finally said he was as he stumbled on his feet, somewhat woozily. Sherlock slid the vest as far away as he could along the slick floor. His hands still felt shaky, hell his whole body was vibrating. John was safe though and that's all that mattered. He went to check the door Moriarty left from and John seemed to fall into a crouching position with his back against the wall and his legs bent awkwardly in front of him. He was breathing quite heavily trying to calm himself down. Sherlock came back and started pacing in front of him, trying to use the metronome-like tapping of his italian loafers to lower his heart rate.
"That thing…that you did…that you offered to do. That was um…good." He stumbled through the words. He glanced between John and the many reflections of the water that bounced around the walls. One hit John's face highlighting his handsome eyes for an instant.
"I'm glad no one saw that." Watson said. "You ripping my clothes off in a darkened swimming pool. People might talk."
Sherlock froze for a second, unsure how to respond. He knew he was in love with John but was quite sure that, while they were best friends, John was not in love with him. So in order not to scare him off Sherlock hadn't told him; having part of John was much better than having no John at all.
He finally responded, "People do little else," with his usual wit and smiled at John. Until the smile was torn off his face when the sniper's laser suddenly appeared right over 'My John's' heart, again.
Moriarty strode back in to the room cockily. He told them he was going to kill them, as they were too much trouble for him; the usual villain-talk but with an eerie undertone of psychopath. Sherlock glanced back at John and it was as if they could have a conversation without speaking, a conversation with just their eyes. John was the only person on Earth he could do this with.
Moriarty said, "I believe everything I've thought has already crossed your mind."
Sherlock held John's eyes, and he made a barely noticeable nod. He replied, "Probably my answer has crossed yours."
He pointed the gun at Moriarty, and then when he had his full attention slowly lowered it to the vest of explosives that was between them. If they were going down they were taking Moriarty with them.
Don't worry it gets more exciting next chapter but I wanted to lay the framework . I hope you guys like. I'm trying to get all the chapters up in a day or two.